Fix It
by Vodka-flavored-graham-cracker
Summary: The Cold War is finally over and America and Russia are doing well. But what happens when France has his "great idea?" A drunk England, sassy American, frisky Frenchman and cunning Russian don't mix well.
1. Drunk

Russia and America's relationship was pretty strained come the end of the Cold War. It became a "you-don't-bother-me-and-I-don't-bother-you" sort of thing. The other countries learned to not bring the war up as a topic of conversation. At mentioning it, america would lose his playful demeanor and harsh "kolkolkol"s could be heard from Russia.

Everything, however, was about to change. France decided to get England hopelessly drunk in hope to have some...alone time...with the Brit. But, as usual, his efforts were in vain. England ended up locking himself in his potions room. Of course, Flying Mint Bunny accompanied him.

"What are you doing, Britain?" the "imaginary" creature asked.

The alcohol England had consumed was addling his brain. "Russia and America have been in an awful fight lately. I must do something to stop it." He was searching through his books and found the perfect one. He scanned the spells (which all worked, thanks very much) and found a certain one that looked just right. It was more of a curse, really, but it would do.

Flying Mint Bunny slowly moved away from England as he began his chant. There was a sudden flash of blinding light and England was thrown back into the wall. He slumped to the ground, out cold.

France burst through the door, smashing it. He stopped once he saw England on the floor. He looked up to the book on the pedestal in the center of the room.

It was smoking.


	2. Flip

Sunflowers.

One of the rare dreams Ivan experienced. They surrounded him. Oh, how he wished this was his life. Without warning he was jolted to reality by an intense, burning pain all throughout his body. He cried out and fell to the floor, trying to stop the agony in any way he could. As soon as it began it ended. Ivan's eyes closed painfully and all he saw was black.

Across the globe in a certain "Land of the Free," America was experiencing the exact same thing.

...

England awoke in his favorite chair in his living room. He had a pouding hangover. He groaned, grabbing the attention of France who was in the kitchen. Out he came with Earl Grey tea.

"What are you doing here, frog?"

"Caring for the wounded."

"What happened?"

"I saw you on the floor of your potions room. The book on the pedestal was smoking."

"Interesting..."

It was decided that they would go and inspect the damage.

"You bloody git!" England snarled. "You broke the door down!" Indeed, the door was smashed to pieces.

"It was the only way I could reach you!" France justified.

England, however, was making his way to the book which had apparently been smoking. He gasped when he saw just which page it was on. "France..." he began in a low voice. "How drunk was I last night?"

"Very."

"Oh, no..."

"Why?" France asked walking up behind his friend. "What's wrong?"

"I swore I'd never to use this curse. There are so many things that can go wrong."

"Well..." France said. "Surely it can't be...that bad."

England just frowned. "It's extremely dangerous, Francis. Not many have survived it."

"Who did you cast it on?"

"Russia and America."

At that France laughed. "They are strong enough to get through this. They aren't called the two superpowers for nothing."

England sighed. "I hope so."


	3. Who You Are

Alfred felt like he had a hangover. Simple as that. His arms felt heavy and...why was he on the floor? ...and for that matter, last he checked his floor wasn't hardwood. He pushed himself up on his knees. Something fell off his neck and hit the floor. A scarf. It looked oddly familiar. Alfred shrugged and made his way to the bathroom, promptly unable to find it. Wait...what?

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Without realizing it he located a mirror. Staring at himself, he saw purple eyes and silver hair. Looking around the unfamiliar room he spotted a massive coat. Handing in the corner were two flags: the Russian Federation and Soviet Russia.

Where were the stars and stripes? The posters of supperheroes? Friggin curatins on the windows?! Alfred then realized why so many things were different; one more look in the mirror confirmed his fears.

"I...I'm that communist bastard!"

...

Ivan wasn't having much of a better time. Once he realized that he was in the room of the capitalist pig, he searched frantically for his scarf. All he found was America's signature jacket. That did it.

"Нет..."

No Russian accent, no scarf, no hardwood floors. Blonde hair, blue eyes, glasses...

"Я...Я Америка!"

...

America's phone rang. Ivan picked it up.

"Привет?"

A jagged Russian accent greeted him. "Do NOT use mt voice to speak communist!"

"Goodness," Ivan replied.

"You obviously used communism to switch our bodies!"

"I must say America, that it is quite odd to hear you screaming at me with my own voice. Tell me...what's it like to be me?"

"What're you even talking about?"

"Well clearly our bodies have been switched so my curiosity is rising to a peak."

"Why are you asking me what it's like to be in your body? That's common logic, obviously!"

Ivan just facepalmed.

"And...do you wear a scarf to cover the scars on your neck?"

Ivan frowned. "...what?"

"Dude, you've got these massive scars covering your neck."

"Tell anyone and I'll use my pipe to rip your insides out through your mouth."

"Ah-ah-aahh," Alfred's now Russian voice became devious. "I have your pipe now."

Ivan realized he was right. What did America have as a weapon? Then he remembered: a lethal baseball bat. It wasn't a lead pipe, but it would do. Neither of them could wait to be changed back but the question remained: why were they like this?


	4. New Lives

Bosses. They were certainly a problem for both Ivan and Alfred. Neither of them knew crap about the other and how they acted or worked. Ivan had the worse time of the two. America was always so obnoxious and now he had to act just like him. Gag. The next day he went to the White House and began "his" work.

"Ah, Alfred," Ivan turned to see Obama coming toward him and quickly went into survival mode. What did he say? How did he act? Well...when in doubt, be annoying.

"Hey boss!" Ivan said as enthusiastically as possible.

"Well someone's happy today," Obama commented.

Ivan laughed and cringed inwardly. "Oh, y'know! Woke up on the right side of the bed, I suppose!"

"Yes, I see. Well you have paperwork on your desk to be adressed. Get to it."

"Yes, sir," They went their seperate ways and Ivan sighed in relief. He'd dodged that bullet. Now...where was America's office?

...

The coat was friggin huge. But the, so was Russia's body. Alfred was having a pretty ough time adjusting. Once he'd finally managed to get the coat on and wrap the scarf around his neck he made his way to the heart of Moscow. The Russian flags everywhere disgusted him. This place needed a great, big heaping spoonful of stars and stripes. Then something occurred to him that made him panic. He didn't know Russian.

...

He'd learned a bit from the Cold War, yes, but it was lost to him now. Great. Just great. Now what was he supposed to do? Too late now. He'd reached Russia's office. Hopefully no one would show up.

...

Turns out that he didn't have to worry about speaking the unknown language. He saw no one. Now...reaing Cyrillic. There was just no way. Alfred figured that once he and Ivan switched back he'd be in for an ass whoopin'.

...

Ivan was having the time of his life. He'd found America's office and was now rummaging through legal documents and classified information. There were many papers concerning the Cold War. Ivan let loose some "kolkolkol"s ...or rather tried to. America's tongue wasn't used to that so it came out not sounding as intended. That and clearly America wasn't capable of rolled r's. Ivan would have to fix that. Then he came upon an interesting book. It was small and leatherbound. Opening it Ivan saw that it was a journal. He knew he'd get his ass kicked later but decided to read anyway.


	5. Civil War Scar

-Entry 1-

Big brother England told me to start a journal! He says it helps a lot!

...

Ivan chuckled to himself. He flipped through and found that many of the first few entries were like this. Then there was a massive time gap where nothing had been written Ivan was intrigued by where it started up again...

...

-Entry 27-

I hate England! I hate him! We butt heads and fight constantly now. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take! When will he finally see that I'm not him and never will be?I think I know what I have to do but...I don't think I can.

-Entry 28-

I asked England for independence. Now there's a war between us. A big one.

-Entry 29-

Of course he had to blow everything out of proportion! Both of our armies are quickly growing smaller. I refuse to back down. I need this independence.

-Entry 30-

The war is done. I'm now my own country.

...

Another time gap. Then...

...

-Entry 31-

I never thought I'd say it but thank goodness for Mother Russia...

-Entry 32-

Why are my people doing this to themselves? It hurts me so much. I refuse to partake in the fighting. But that doesn't explain how I got a massive wound on my front.

-Entry 33-

Everything's going to hell. Today was the bloodiest day of them all. Ivan held me and told me that the first civil war is always the hardest. But...that means there'll be more. I don't even know how I'm going to survive this one.

-Entry 34-

I was told that whenever there's a war a country affected will gain wounds without doing any fighting. That explains mine.

-Entry 35-

The war is finally over but I'm not hurting any less.

...

This is where there was another time gap. But Ivan didn't continue. He was too bust looking at Alfred's torso. A massive scar ran from his right shoulder to the left side of his waist. This must've been the Civil War scar.


	6. Stage 2

Russia was surprised at the intensity of the scar. It was red and seemed to glow with memories. Just as he realized that, something happened. A...flashback...?

...

He was standing on a hill overlooking one of the bloodiest battles he'd ever seen. People seemed to be dropping like flies. Gunshots filled the air. It reminded him of Bloody Sunday.

Tears were streaming down his face. He heard footsteps and turned to see...himself? How was that possible? Unless...

"Ivan..." he felt himself say without helping himself. His mouth moved involuntarily.

"Alfred...?"

He heard concern in the Russian's voice.

"Oh, Iv..."

Russia held him close.

"Shh, Al. It's alright. Remember...the first civil war is always the hardest..."

...

Russia's voice seemed to echo and fade out as Ivan came back out of the memory. What had just happened? He'd been America but it was America's memory? Hmm...something just didn't feel right...

...

"So, what is the worst thing about this so called curse?" France asked.

He and England were sitting at France's table drinking tea and coffee.

"Hmm...well out of everything that happens the worst thing that often caused trauma is the memories."

"Memories?"

"Yes. The one will experience the others memories and emotions and vice versa. It causes confusion and has occurred so often it's caused suicide to two people."

"Like I said, America and Russia are strong. They will get through this. When will it wear off?"

England was silent. Then, "It doesn't."

France stopped drinking his coffee. "...wha-?"

"There's a countercurse but I can't seem to locate it. All I know is that it's extremely risky."

"Riskier than all of this happening?"

"Death is always an issue."

"When is it not?"

England just sighed. "I'm going to try and find it but when I do the hardest part will be to get America and Russia here together."

"Oh, that won't be a problem..."

England looked up and saw France's devious expression.

"Francis? What are you thinking?"

"Ooooh, I have some ideas..."

...

To Marzy704: glad you like it so far! ^.^


	7. Stage 3

Alfred went "home" to Russia's house and flopped on the massive bed. For a split second he had the funniest idea of how it must have looked to see Russia's body flopping down on an oversized, vintage mattress. He chuckled a bit at the thought, then promptly decided to stop. Even Russia's genuine laugh was creepy. He thought about his past day. Everyone had avoided him. Seems like even Russia's own people hated him. At first it was funny...but then it was sad.

'Just like my social life,' Alfred thought to himself.

He slowly lifted himself off the bed; he was still trying to get accostomed to being this tall. He felt topheavy and it was like learning to walk all over again. He fell back on his butt with a grunt. Then he sighed, grimacing, and called up Ivan. He picked up on the first ring.

"Hello, Alfred."

Alfred caught something in Ivan's voice...something he'd never heard before. But he couldn't put his finger on it. He decided to brush it off.

"Why are you so tall, commie?"

"Well" Ivan replied. "I am the biggest country."

"Oh, shut it. I'm the second biggest."

"No you are not."

"...whut?"

"Canada. Canada's the second biggest."

"Then why isn't he like huge like you?"

Ivan just sighed. "I don't know, America. Why are you calling?"

"Why do your own people hate you?"

Silence on the other end.

"...Ivan?"

Still nothing.

"Russia, I didn't hear a click. I know you're still on. Talk to me."

"Don't talk to me."

*Click* Ivan had hung up. Alfred snarled inwardly but proceeded to try and get ready for bed. It was a feat of the century.

...

Ivan held the phone next to his ear for a long time after that. When aroudn 20 minutes had passed he finally put it down on the table, his head following not long after. He sighed deeply. The topic of his own people hating him really did it for him. It was a touchy subject. He was aware that everyone hated him. He just hated to admit it. He slowly made his way to America's bedroom.

Sitting on the bed, he got out Alfred's journal he'd brought back with him. The entries had gotten more and more heartfelt about Ivan. He sat like that for a long time before finally turning off the lights. For the first time in a long time, Ivan the Russian cried himself to sleep.

...

"So when does stage 3 begin?"

France asked.

"Not long," the Brit replied. "Very soon, in fact."

"How soon?"

"Probably when they both wake up. The changes and such never happen while asleep. Don't really know why..."

"So what's stage 3 then?"

England was silent. France grew worried. "Angleterre?"

England just sighed. "You'll see," he replied tersely. "You'll see."


End file.
